


Different

by CanonCannon



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Past Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, because me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanonCannon/pseuds/CanonCannon
Summary: Daryl was always overly gentle with him, cautious and shy enough that the scout wondered if maybe the older man was a virgin when they met. Fortunately Paul was used to being the more dominant partner in his relationships. He adored topping Daryl, guiding him through all kinds of pleasures and intimacies the other man may never have experienced before.Aggressive Daryl was different. Hot as fuck, but still… different.





	1. Chapter 1

Daryl hadn’t so much as crossed the threshold of their trailer for two days, and Paul was driving himself maybe-crazy overthinking this maybe-fight with his maybe-boyfriend.

He knew it was entirely possible that he was blowing the whole situation out of proportion. Daryl’s family was visiting Hilltop to help with the harvest. Of course the hunter would want to be with Rick, Michonne, and the others as much as possible.

And it wasn’t like there had been an actual confrontation. There’d been no yelling, no harsh words. Just fantastic sex, followed by cold sheets in the morning and a cold shoulder for forty-five solid fucking hours after that.

The sex itself had been perfect. Scorching hot. It hadn’t felt like goodbye, either. Instead it felt like Daryl was finally letting loose a little, taking charge between them for the first time.

Then the next morning, the hunter had just disappeared. Paul only saw him occasionally and always from a distance, eating with Rick or talking with Aaron or smoking with Rosita. Which was all probably perfectly natural, perfectly understandable.

And if Daryl never so much as waved, never hinted that Paul should come over to eat or chat or smoke… well, that was natural, too. Paul knew he could be annoying. “Too much,” Alex had always said.

Alex also said that Paul was unbearably neurotic. Maybe he was being neurotic now, seeing conflict where none existed.

Hell, maybe he was seeing a relationship where none existed. All the looks, the shy affection, the late nights playing cards or checkers, determinedly avoiding serious conversation while determinedly fucking like rabbits… maybe he’d misread everything. Maybe they hadn’t had a serious conversation because there was nothing serious between them to talk about.

The thought caused a sharp, pinching pain behind Paul’s ribcage.

He continued not talking about it. He waffled and he fretted. He kept his distance the few times he saw Daryl around Hilltop, thinking the man needed time with his family or maybe just time without Paul, a break from “too much.”

So when he turned a corner, arms full of freshly harvested squash, and saw Daryl sitting behind Earl’s forge using his own wrist as an ashtray, it was entirely by accident.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two days ago**

_Paul was sharpening his knives at the table when the trailer door opened. He didn’t turn around, knowing just by the sound of boots clunking to the ground that it was Daryl, returned home from the party._

_The smell of beer wafted over to Paul, making him wish he’d gone along after all. Maggie and Daryl had both invited him, Maggie by asking directly if he’d like to come and Daryl by slouching around the trailer awkwardly for twenty minutes before the party began. It was clearly a family event, though, and the Hilltop man didn’t want to intrude._

_“How was it?” Paul asked._

_“Fine,” the hunter replied, laconic as always._

_The beery scent grew stronger as Daryl walked up behind him. Paul nearly startled when the other man leaned in and pressed his face against Paul’s hair, strong arms wrapping loosely around the scout’s neck and shoulders._

_This was new._

_Paul kept cleaning his knives without comment, desperate not to scare Daryl off, but he tilted his head a little into the contact._

_Daryl_ nuzzled _and Paul felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t stop a small grin from spreading over his face. “You’re in a good mood,” he said, voice neutral. No teasing, no sarcasm, not in the face of this precious development._

_“Wantcha,” Daryl growled, moving his hands to still Paul’s wrists._

_Paul froze for a split second before dropping his knife and whetstone to the table and turning his head to try to catch a glimpse of Daryl’s face. “How much have you had to drink?”_

_Daryl rarely acknowledged their sex life out loud and he_ never _initiated, unless sneaking covert looks at Paul from across the room until the younger man finally rolled his eyes and dragged him to the bed could be called initiating._

_“Not too much, boy scout,” Daryl teased as he pulled Paul out of the chair._

_Paul narrowed his eyes, looking up at the man’s flushed face. “You realize you’re more of a boy scout than I am, right? They don’t give badges for picking locks and sneaking around.”_

_Daryl only responded by using his easy strength to lift Paul’s hips onto the table, then he pushed in to stand between the shorter man's knees._

_Paul yelped in surprise and tried to cover the embarrassing noise with a scolding, “Daryl, seriously…”_

_“Ain’t drunk, alright? Just… buzzed,” Daryl said. “Scout’s honor. Now shush.”_

_He leaned in and kissed Paul aggressively, with sharp teeth and an insistent tongue._

_A bit stunned, Paul let him in._

_Daryl was always overly gentle with him, cautious and shy enough that the scout wondered if maybe the older man was a virgin when they met. Fortunately Paul was used to being the more dominant partner in his relationships. He adored topping Daryl, guiding him through all kinds of pleasures and intimacies the other man may never have experienced before._

_Aggressive Daryl was different. Hot as fuck, but still… different._

_After kissing for several long moments, Paul found himself being maneuvered off the table. Daryl’s hands went a little frantic, racing over his back and arms before settling on his shoulders and pressing downward in an obvious hint._

_The scout’s eyes widened against his will and he took half a step back._

_Daryl immediately began stuttering, “Shit, sorry. Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean-”_

_Before he could choke out another syllable, Paul dropped hard to his knees. He was going to let Daryl explore this._

_He was going to let himself explore this._

_Paul reached blindly for one of the hunter’s big calloused hands. Releasing a hot breath into the denim in front of him, he guided the hand into his hair._

_Then he licked Daryl’s half-hard length firmly through his jeans. Daryl’s fingers clenched into a fist, long hair tangled in his fingers, and Paul couldn’t help but gasp at the tiny flash of pain._

_Together they fumbled open Daryl’s flies. Usually Paul would lick and kiss a bit first. Take things slow. This time he dove in, sucking hard then swallowing around the other man, bracing his hands on his hips._

_It took ages to get Daryl to fuck his mouth. The hunter would start softly pressing into Paul’s throat, only to still again moments later. Paul resorted to moaning enthusiastically whenever Daryl pumped his hips. He knew it sounded slutty, maybe a little too theatrical, but it worked. Daryl finally gave into the impulse, chasing the sensation his body wanted._

_Less than a minute later, Paul was being yanked to his feet by one arm and spun around against a wall. “Gonna fuck you,” Daryl rasped, taking hold of the smaller man's wrists and pinning them above his head with bruising force._


	3. Chapter 3

_Just before Daryl raised Paul off his knees, the scout was trying to decide how to bring him off. Instinct usually made men want to thrust forward, burying themselves in orgasm. Paul had something else in mind, though: he’d tilt his head up towards the ceiling and let Daryl’s hot come fall in stripes over his face. They hadn’t done anything like that yet, and shit, he wanted it. Wanted to work Daryl’s dick with his tongue and lips until his balls drew up tight, then hear the soft noise of confusion when he took him in hand at the last minute and the gasp of shock when the hunter realized what Paul was offering. He wanted to watch Daryl lose all self-control because of how good Paul could make him feel._

_Paul was dizzy before he knew what was happening, on his feet with his chest heaving to get his breath back. It had been a long time since he let someone use his mouth like that and he hadn’t realized how much Daryl’s cock had been cutting off his air. He inhaled the scent of leather, sweat, smoke, and beer._

_The flicker of vertigo was still wearing off when Daryl half-threatened, half-promised to fuck him, his Georgian accent thick and feral. They’d tried anal sex earlier that week and it had been a disaster, so hopefully the redneck was just trying out some dirty talk with this new brand of foreplay._

_Paul almost asked, but a second later he was being shoved hard against the wall, his instincts screaming at him to fight back. Fuck. He’d never been tempted to ask a partner take charge like this, hold him down or push him around or growl about wanting to fuck him, and yet… hell, it was working for him._

_The slight pain in his wrists didn’t make him any more or less excited, but the rest of it— the hard wall behind him, being trapped by huge, calloused hands, and most of all, seeing Daryl so uninhibited—fuck yes,_ that _was working. Until tonight the older man had been touching him like he was something delicate that ought to be hidden away in a nest of bubble wrap and a box stamped ‘Fragile.’ Worse, ever since they started having sex Daryl never seemed to know where to look when they were alone together._

_Daryl knew where to look now. He was intent on Paul, peering through his bangs with pupils so blown that they made his irises appear several shades darker. His cheeks were flushed and his mouth was gaping open a little, as if entranced at the sight of the smaller man pinned taut against the wall. The only point of contact between them was Daryl’s hands on Paul’s wrists. “Said I wanna fuck you… you gonna let me?” he breathed, narrowing his eyes in a clear challenge._

_The hot-blooded lust written all over his face was intoxicating, but it was also a complete turnaround from the shy arousal Paul had been coaxing out of him for two weeks now. And seriously, why the hell would Daryl want to try fucking him again? Was it this mood he was in, all dominance and aggression? Shit, maybe he felt like he had something to prove, or something to apologize for._

_Paul had tried every damn trick he knew and that still hadn’t been enough to make it good for the man, so he didn’t expect a second chance would fix anything. Not that Daryl had actually said anything about it one way or the other—that would have required acknowledging out loud that they were, in fact, having sex, which appeared to be against some internal Dixon mandate. It had been pretty damn obvious, though. Aside from a strangled gasp when Paul first lowered himself onto his dick, the older man had been completely silent through the whole act. He’d also kept unnaturally still, hardly seeming to blink or breathe, like he was simply enduring while Paul took his pleasure. Drifting his fingertips softly over the smaller man’s knees and thighs was the only touch Daryl had initiated._

_Most damning of all, bringing him to completion had taken twice as long as usual. By the time the hunter came with a vicious-looking bite to his lip, Paul’s legs had ached and his dick had been nearly purple. He finished himself off feeling like a complete fool. He’d been teasing Daryl that morning with the promise of letting the man fuck him, like his ass was some special event to look forward to. Christ._

_“Paul?” Daryl broke into his thoughts, a note of uncertainty in his tone now._

_The scout bought a little more time by squirming and wriggling his hands as if fighting to free himself. There was an almost subsonic growl and Daryl pushed into the smaller man’s space. He leaned in with his whole body, his thigh rubbing against Paul’s dick. Daryl’s over-the-top, flirty glare followed by his little self-satisfied smirk was a revelation._

_Daryl was being_ playful _with him again. Paul almost hadn’t recognized it after two weeks of awkwardness, and it had never been that common to begin with, but that’s what this was. Something had happened, finally, to make Daryl more comfortable with this, with them._

_In a surge of affection and lust, Paul decided that yeah, he could do this, this particular game Daryl was asking to play with him. He could let Daryl have this._

_“Sure you want to fuck me? Because you can have anything, Daryl.” Since Daryl was clearly getting off on being in charge, Paul was going to make a bit of a show of submitting. He spoke in a low, purring voice. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do… let you touch me however you want…” Widening his eyes to look innocent, a trick he usually pulled when meeting strangers, Paul licked his lips slowly. They were probably still red and swollen from the blowjob. He hoped the whole effect wasn’t so obvious as to be cheesy—this was why he never used dirty talk, it always felt silly._

_Daryl stared at his mouth for a dumbfounded moment._

_Then he started trembling._

_So no, not cheesy, apparently._

_“Yeah,” he whispered. “Wanna- wanna be inside you.” His mouth descended for a moment, nuzzling and then biting sharply at his captive’s jaw._

_“Good,” Paul gasped. “Fuck me. Bend me over and take me.”_

_Daryl made some sort of animalistic noise, halfway between a groan and a whimper, and started to strip him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... the fuck did I just write?


	4. Chapter 4

_Daryl pulled him out of his clothes roughly, shaking the whole time. Paul had to help with his buttons and zipper._

_He half expected to be tossed onto the bed right then, but instead Daryl pinned him against the wall again and stared him up and down—he obviously really liked the way that looked—before mauling his throat with a love bite. Paul stayed put, even when the hunter was only holding his wrists loosely with one hand. Even when Daryl’s thighs kept brushing lightly against his cock in tantalizing way that made him want to reverse the situation, shove Darylagainst the wall, slick up those thighs, and just-_

_Daryl finished his love bite, looking at it with a vague sort of satisfaction on his face. Paul wanted to tease him, ask if he was done marking his territory, but they hadn’t talked about any of that: being exclusive, belonging to each other. He left it alone for now and went for the lube and condom, pushing Daryl to sit on the narrow bed._

_Then he fell to his knees again and looked up into Daryl’s surprised face. “I want to suck you while I finger myself.” An ex had done that for him a couple of times and he remembered feeling too turned on to breathe._

_He also really didn’t want a repeat of last time, struggling to make Daryl come while the man awkwardly raked fingers over his thighs. Getting the hunter as close as possible with his mouth would help._

_Unfortunately Daryl didn’t agree. “Ain’t a good idea,” he said immediately, closing his eyes._

_“Mmm, what if I beg for it? Would you let me have your dick if I said please?” Hell, he was pulling lines straight from porn now, but they still seemed to work._

_“Good Lord, shut_ up _,” the older man breathed out, eyes still closed._

_So Paul shut up. Spreading lube and then keeping his gaze glued to Daryl, he slowly inserted one finger past his tight ring of muscle. The slight ache in his wrist from earlier was present, but easy to ignore. The redneck eventually opened his eyes again and watched, gnawing on his thumbnail._

_Paul stroked at the small gland inside him and the fire burning down his spine roared. He didn’t have to fake the groan that tore out of his throat as he shivered helplessly. He rolled his hips a little and Daryl’s eyes flicked downward._

_“Want me to get up there so you can see? You can get close, take over… I told you, you can do anything you want to me tonight.”_

_Daryl’s dick jerked and Paul thought he saw a bead of precome leak from the tip. “Yeah, you told me, now_ quit _telling me or this is gonna end right here,” the hunter commanded, voice high. Then after a moment, more hesitantly, “Actually, don’t- don’t talk at all.” He reached out a shaky hand with his index and middle fingers extended._

_Paul moaned and obliged, leaning up to take Daryl’s fingers in his mouth. As he opened himself up he licked and sucked and bobbed his head exactly as he would have sucking a dick._

_Tasting Daryl’s skin while watching the man tremble and squirm, his untouched dick leaking right at Paul’s eye level, was entirely too much temptation. The scout didn’t take nearly as long as he usually would to open himself up. Besides, he_ wanted _to feel it. He removed his fingers and Daryl helped him up, only to push him forward and bend him over the table in the next instant._

_The flat, cold surface against his chest was startling. Paul swallowed and let himself be maneuvered to Daryl’s liking._

_When he had Paul spread out how he wanted, Daryl ran his hands over his ass reverently, his usual gentleness returning for a moment. He kissed his back as he stepped close, making the scout smile into his folded arms._

_Daryl didn’t push in, though. Instead he seemed to freeze. “Shit—give me a minute. M’sorry, just… gotta think about dead puppies or something.”_

_Paul glanced over his shoulder to find the man blushing and looking away. “You're jumping straight to dead puppies? Seriously? There's nothing that turns you off that's a little less... horrible?”_

_"Need the nuclear option." Daryl’s nose scrunched in concentration. It was damned adorable._

_"Seems like overkill. Especially for this… configuration.” Daryl raised an eyebrow and Paul pursed his lips. “I was just surprised you wanted to try it like this again. I don’t know, forget it." God damn it, he needed to stop talking._

_Daryl blushed deeper and bit his thumb, but he was still engaging, not shutting down, so Paul hadn’t fucked up too badly yet. "This whole week… you been thinking I didn't like it last time?" Paul shrugged noncommittally. He felt weird, having this conversation while spread out on the table like a fucking buffet. Daryl continued, ”Shit, man. You said that morning you wanted it... you know, like that. I was stiff as a board all damn day just thinking about it. Only lasted so long cause I jacked off while I was on watch so I wouldn't fucking embarrass myself."_

_For Daryl, that was a speech and a half. Paul knew the man wouldn't appreciate him dwelling on it too much, so he only said, “Good, so you don’t mind fucking me again now? Sooner the better, really, because I’m picturing you getting yourself off on watch and it is_ inspiring _. I really can beg if that’s what you’re waiting for.”_

_“There's that mouth again,” Daryl huffed. He ran a hand down Paul’s flank and finally, finally pressed inside._

_“You want to punish me for it? Slap my ass until I learn my lesson?” Paul gasped as he felt the burn of Daryl's cock pushing into him. The idea of being spanked like a naughty kid didn’t particularly turn him on, but he knew he could take it. He had meant it when he promised Daryl anything._

_That was a misfire, though. Daryl recoiled, almost pulling out. "Nah. Nah, I could never- I wouldn't hit you, not now that we’re..." He trailed off._

_Paul silently willed him to finish that sentence, but he didn't. "Ok, no spanking," the scout said lightly. “I do want you to fuck me hard, though—hard as you-”_

_“Shit, open your mouth,” Daryl interrupted. Confused, Paul did, and almost laughed when Daryl hooked two fingers in again at an awkward angle. “Gonna be fast enough without you_ talking _and making it worse.”_

_He kept pushing inside then, slowly, giving Paul plenty of time to adjust. Even so, Paul felt the lack of stretch acutely, enough to wish he'd taken his time preparing himself. He held on past the thick discomfort. The slide became easier just as Daryl leaned into the movement and changed his position slightly. Paul’s whole body jerked and he yelped out, only slightly muffled by Daryl's fingers, “There! Right there, oh god, do that again!”_

_Daryl moved his hands and gripped painfully at Paul's hips, aiming for the same spot again and again. Paul let himself get lost in the give and take, ignoring everything else--the sweat running down his temple, the creaking of the table, the slight pain from the larger man's grip._

_Daryl's dick inside him felt so good that it took awhile for Paul to notice that the other man was holding back._ _“Harder. Hard, Daryl, I need- I need it harder,” he ordered, forgetting all about submission as he pressed back into the feeling._

_The hunter stopped for several seconds before exhaling deeply and starting to fuck Paul in earnest. His rhythm began to falter almost immediately._

_“Hell, Paul- Paul, you’re- oh-“ Daryl was usually silent in bed, but like this, intense and unbound, Paul’s name was a ruin in his mouth._

_Paul came just listening to the sound of it, his hand crooked around the table rubbing frantically at his dick. Daryl followed him over, collapsing on the smaller man's back with a helpless moan as he spent himself._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O___o


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to present day.

Paul had seen them before, the dozen or so circular scars that littered Daryl’s hands and wrists, but he hadn't asked about them. He'd assumed it was more evidence of the horrific abuse the man had suffered as a child.

“Daryl?”

Daryl startled badly and yanked the cigarette from his wrist, flicking it away in a flash. Too late, though.

Half-setting, half-dropping the squash he was carrying on the ground, Paul moved closer, trying to meet the hunter’s eyes as he said, “Daryl, why…” He lost his steam when he noticed that the dirty wrist had at least three other recent burns marring it. “What the _hell_ ,” he breathed out, unable to keep the horror from his voice.

Daryl stood and tried to shove past him. When Paul put a restraining hand on his shoulder, he stumbled backwards a few steps and snapped, “Fuck off, Paul. Ain’t your business.”

“Oh.” It was a low, flat syllable.

Because of course it wasn’t his business.

Paul dropped his hand, letting Daryl walk away.

Only for some reason Daryl chose that moment to stop fleeing, half-glaring in his direction with a small frown. “Look, this ain’t some big tragedy, alright? You’re just- you're done slumming it, is all. I’ll clear outta the trailer. Maggie said-”

Paul felt like he’d been slapped. “That’s what you think? That I've been slumming it with you?”

Daryl shrugged. Shifted his weight. “Just saying, ain’t nothing to be sad about. That’s all.”

“You don’t want me to be sad.” Paul said bitterly, crossing his arms with a humorless laugh. “You’re kicking me to the curb, you don’t have the decency to have a real conversation about why, and you don’t want me to be _sad_.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I was… I’d just told Maggie about us, you know? How I was trying for something real, for the first time in a long time with a boyfriend-”

“Was never your _boyfriend_. Christ. We fucked a few times, weren't-"

For a moment Paul honestly wanted to hurt him, this blasé version of Daryl Dixon, talking about ‘fucking a few times’ like he was suddenly so worldly when Paul was pretty damn sure he'd taken the man’s virginity two weeks ago. He resisted the urge, saying only, “Don’t. You’ve been _burning_ yourself over this, so just… don’t.”

They stood a few feet apart in the relative privacy behind the forge.

“Never expected anything serious with you. Hell, Alex is still sniffing around, why don't you give him a real shot for once? Been keeping him on the line long enough,” Daryl said, eyes on the ground.

“Did you know I grew up in a group home? So maybe you're the one who’s been slumming it, Daryl.” Paul said, still pretty damn stuck on that particular comment. The older man’s eyes widened. Maggie hadn’t told him, then. “And you hate Alex.”

“Plenty of other gay dudes between the five- well, four, not Oceanside…” Daryl trailed off suddenly, biting at his thumb.

“If you're trying to piss me off, it's working.”

They were silent for a few minutes. Daryl lit up another cigarette. Paul's eyes fixed on the burns around the hunter’s wrist. Seeing where he was looking, Daryl tugged the sleeve of his jacket back down.

“Yaint gonna be with someone who hurts you, alright?” Daryl finally said quietly. “Ain't happening.”

“You've never-”

Speaking over him, Daryl continued, “You got bruises. And you weren’t-“ he looked away, shame written all over his face and posture. "You weren't walking right yesterday." His voice was thick and wavering.

Around the corner, Earl’s hammer paused for an extra-long moment before continuing.

Paul took a deep breath. Another. Then a third, because he really didn’t have a single clue how to respond to that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably no more smut in this one, guys.
> 
> *watches subscriptions tick downward* ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Paul's first thought, honestly, was to send Daryl to Aaron and Eric with a note pinned to his shirt. Let them try to explain some things.

But no, he was _trying_ with this one, trying for real. That meant conversation, however poorly equipped they both were for it.

Looking at the very faint bruises on his own wrists, Paul’s second thought was that Daryl was heartbreaking. He had hurt himself far worse than he'd hurt Paul. Those burns made him ache with rage and affection towards the other man.

“I don't know why I acted like that, did that to you. I’m sorry.” Now that Daryl was talking, he seemed to feel the need to explain himself. His voice was shaking. “Wasn't even drunk. Just an asshole, I guess.”

Paul realized suddenly that Earl's hammer hadn't sounded in awhile. "Look, can we talk somewhere more private?"

"It's harvest," Daryl replied, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Busy."

"They won't miss us for a few minutes. Come on." Paul wasn't above manipulative puppy-dog eyes.

Daryl wouldn't look at him, though. "Aaron's probably already missing me, we're taking turns with the wheelbarrow." He cleared his throat, toe digging absently into the dirt at his feet. "After dinner. I'll come by the trailer."

"Okay." That might be better--it would give him time to think.

"Fine." Daryl turned to go.

Paul grabbed him by the shoulder, then let his arm trail to his injured wrist, thumb hovering over one of the burn marks without touching. "But promise you won't do this again in the meantime."

"Fine," Daryl repeated slowly, pulling away gently. He walked away without another word.

\--

Paul knew immediately that he was going to ask Maggie for advice. The situation was too important and too delicate not to, and he didn't have the best track record on important, delicate conversations with guys he was sleeping with.

That didn't make it any easier to actually spit it out, though. For one thing, he wasn’t sure how many people in Daryl's family even knew about the man’s unfortunate childhood, and he didn't want to break Daryl's confidence. He had only said a few words about it the first time Paul got him undressed ("My pa, long time ago, don't matter") and Paul had known not to push for more.

Finally he decided to bulldoze in and hope Maggie asked the right questions. Usually she was good like that.

"So um, you know how I told you that Daryl and I-"

"Yeah?" Maggie asked, perking up instantly, as if she'd been hoping he would bring it up. She sat back on her heels, giving him her full attention.

 _Women_ , Paul thought, exasperated, and forced himself to continue. "Right. Well... we're having a pretty big, um, misunderstanding. And I don't really know how to talk to him about it."

Maggie paused as if waiting for him to elaborate, then said, "Well, being direct is better, even if Daryl’s not always direct himself. He doesn't hold a grudge, not when he cares about someone. I'm sure if you just apologize-"

"The problem is, he thinks _he_ needs to apologize. Only he didn't do anything wrong, and I don't know how to convince him..." Paul trailed off, regrouping so he wouldn't reveal more than he wanted. "He thinks he's not good for me. It’s ridiculous, but he’s convinced.”

"Yeah, that sounds like him." Maggie absently began to pull another potato plant from the ground. “And God knows he’s stubborn about it when he thinks something's his fault."

She was talking about what happened to Glenn, Paul realized. He remembered those days well, when Daryl was stewing in guilt and couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Maggie for long. “So how did you convince him?”

"I'm not sure I did, the way he looks at me and Hershel sometimes. I told him it wasn't his fault, that no one blamed him a bit, but whether that sunk in or not…” she shrugged sadly. “In the end I think he stuck around because I told him that we need him, and we're all better off with him here."

Paul could work with that.

\--

Daryl wasn't at dinner, but he did keep his word and show up at the trailer around sundown. As he slouched through the door Paul just about forced some scotch into his hand. He couldn't get the nervous man to sit at the table with him, though. When he sat and gestured at the other chair Daryl simply ignored him and paced, taking small sips of the alcohol.

Taking a deep breath, Paul began. "You did hurt me."

Daryl's eyes snapped to his, glass suspended halfway to his mouth.

"Not the way you think. Not physically. I liked you being a little, um, forceful with me, and anal sex can always cause some soreness the next day." Daryl’s ears turned bright red, but Paul _needed_ him to understand and believe that part. “It’s natural, and if you don’t believe me you can ask Aaron or Eric, they’ll tell you the same thing. But if you don't like that, and if you don't like seeing bruises on me, then we don't ever have to do it, um, that way again. I like it when you're gentle, too."

He paused hoping for a response. Predictably, he didn't get one, aside from Daryl's blush spreading to his cheeks and neck.

"But the rest of it... living together, spending time together, the other things we've tried... Daryl, you’ve got to see that you'd be breaking my damn heart if you quit on me now."

Daryl's face was pinched when he finally replied, "You'd be better off with-"

"Nope," Paul said simply, because it didn't matter whose name he filled in, it wouldn't be true.

“Man, even if you're alright this time, I still-”

"I'm in too deep," Paul interrupted again. "Sorry. You can believe me, that I wanted everything you did that night and you didn't somehow abuse me, or you can find another way to get over it, because breaking up over this isn't an option. Not if you don't want to hurt me."

It was gamble, pushing like that--Daryl could be contrary in addition to being stubborn as a mule--but looking at his face, Paul didn't think it was _too_ much of a risk.

There was silence for a long time, nothing between them but cooling autumn air and the quiet bustle of Hilltoppers preparing for bed nearby.

Finally Daryl muttered, almost too quiet to hear, "Don't ever want to hurt you."

"Good," Paul said forcefully, standing and walking over to him. He leaned up on tiptoes and captured Daryl's lips with his own, threading his fingers through wild dark hair and pouring every ounce of relief and happiness he felt into the kiss.

Daryl kissed back just as hungrily, with a soft sound that was almost a whimper.

The spell was broken by shattering glass.

"Shit!" Daryl exclaimed. "Dropped the Scotch. Fuck. Don't move, you ain't got shoes. I'll get the broom."

Smiling a small, private smile, Paul obediently stayed still as Daryl flapped around cursing and cleaning up the mess.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mostly wrote this in a hospital so I've decided to give myself a break on editing. Probably one more chapter of this one left <3


	7. Chapter 7

It took about a week before Paul even tried to really touch Daryl again.

He was back in the trailer part-time, like an outdoor cat stopping by for food and occasional affection. As usual, Paul didn’t push for more. Most of Daryl’s family was still around to help with canning, drying, and dividing up the crop, and he also figured Daryl might need some space to work things out in his head. So when Daryl would come in to change clothes or shower they’d talk for a few minutes, and Paul satisfied himself with quick shoulder-bumps and brief touches.

One day after they’d had lunch together in a big group, though, Paul couldn’t help but track Daryl down afterwards for a chat, because Rick Grimes’ glare had felt like it was burning a role through his face the entire time he was trying to enjoy his soup.

“Is Rick going to murder me?” he asked plainly when he got Daryl into their trailer.

“Huh?” Daryl scratched his nose, avoiding Paul’s eyes.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He did, too. Daryl wasn’t much of a liar.

“Guess I gotta straighten some shit out with him.”

“Ok…” Paul waited.

Daryl blew a breath through his nose, exasperated at being forced to talk. “I told him, but then after that we had our… thing. Y’know. So.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Daryl.” Paul closed his eyes tight for a second, then continued. “You might _think_ you’re communicating with me right now, but I assure you, you are not. Just tell me what happened, from the beginning.”

“Told him about… us.” Then, as if rushing to defend himself, “We kept screwing around and I didn’t know what the fuck it _meant_ , so I, uh, asked him. And he said it sounded like more. More than just sex, I mean.” He hesitated on the word ‘sex’ the way a middle schooler would. “S’why I was… different, that night. Rick thought you were serious about stuff.”

Paul blinked slowly, trying to process the fact that Daryl asked _Rick_ if things were serious between them rather than asking, say, Paul himself.

Daryl continued, “I was happy about it so I went all caveman on you, and then… dunno, Rick musta noticed something’s been off after that.”

“Oh. Well.” That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. “Please tell him we’re ok before he machetes me in my sleep.”

Daryl nodded briefly, still looking awkward, and Paul noticed suddenly that he was happy. _Really_ happy. Because Daryl had told Rick about them, and Rick’s response—that he thought it was serious—had made him more comfortable around Paul instead of less.

That was- that was huge, actually.

Throwing caution to the wind, he stepped in for a quick kiss—only to his surprise Daryl immediately deepened it, arms winding around him like he wanted Paul to stay put. Paul tried to pull away after a long moment but Daryl held him still, tongue insistent in his mouth, eyes tightly closed with some unknown emotion.

Paul couldn’t read the expression so he pushed against Daryl’s chest, forcing him to break away. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said hoarsely. “Sorry. Just… been waiting. Didn’t want to push you, after last time-”

God damn it.

Surging forward, Paul devoured his mouth, hands twisting into the back of his shirt.

It wasn’t all that romantic, frankly. Paul wasn’t sure if he wanted romance. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or not, that Daryl _still_ felt some kind of guilt.

Their teeth clacked together. Daryl stumbled to the side a bit before he caught up to what was happening and dragged Paul in even closer. In response Paul let his hand slide to Daryl’s ass, squeezing hard.

Moaning into the kiss, Daryl pulled Paul’s shirt up without a hint of hesitation. Paul leaned back for a half second so he could tug it off, then made up for the missed contact by biting the other man’s lip and starting in on his buttons.

Heat ignited between them. They were naked on the bed in moments, both of them sweaty and a little dirty from working outside. Paul wasn’t really thinking clearly—if he was, maybe he’d want this gentle, something soft to reaffirm that it wasn’t all about sex to him.

As it was, he dragged his nails down Daryl’s back and flipped them with a move more suited to martial arts than making love. Daryl gasped and shivered, yanking his hips so their cocks could rub together. Growling, the older man licked a stripe over Paul’s collarbone, hand roughly tugging his head back by his hair to make room.

Paul didn’t think much of it when Daryl brought his legs up around his waist—just kept thrusting against him. But when he paused to spit in his hand and slick them up a little, Daryl stopped him with a whispered, “You should fuck me.”

 _No. Absolutely not. Terrible idea_ , Paul thought to himself, even as his hips surged forward helplessly.

“C’mon,” Daryl whispered, reading his hesitation. He nibbled on Paul’s neck a little, making his eyelids flutter. “C’mon, Paul. Ain’t done it before, but I want it, with you. Wanted it before last week, even.”

“Daryl…” Paul said weakly. They were still thrusting against each other slowly. He was losing his grip on his willpower.

“Been thinking about it, how good it felt doing that to you. I want- I want it.” Daryl’s voice was low and earnest, and it was really fucking sexy. Paul moaned into his hair.

“Yeah,” he agreed finally, breathless.

—

They went slowly.

Any aggression Paul felt, any unbridled enthusiasm, was reigned in the moment he saw the vulnerable look in Daryl’s eyes before he turned over onto his stomach.

His back was tense, sweat dripping down his sides. He couldn’t hold in his small gasps so he stifled them in the pillow—it was the middle of the afternoon, and the trailer’s walls were thin.

Daryl was _tight_. Fucking hell. The heat around Paul’s fingers made his mouth water, but Daryl hadn’t asked for that—he’d asked to be fucked.

Paul wasn’t convinced they’d get that far.

Daryl had been overwhelmed from the moment he’d slid a finger inside. Paul stroked his dick occasionally, but knew the other man wouldn’t last long if he kept that up—he was leaking already, pushing himself against the pillow beneath his hips when Paul let him go.

“Stop that,” Paul husked, pausing what he was doing and biting at Daryl’s hip. It took Daryl a moment to comply.

“M’ready,” he said harshly. “I’m- you can-” 

Paul angled his fingers a little and Daryl broke off with a choked noise. “You’re ready when I say you are.”

“Oh God,” Daryl moaned into the pillow, shaking his head back and forth as if in disagreement. He was resting on his elbows, legs spread wide, utterly shameless for once.

A couple minutes passed and Paul finally decided to give it a try.

“It shouldn’t hurt, so tell me if it does.”

“Fine, just-”

“Right away. Don’t try to bear it, that’s how people get injured.”

“I got it-”

“I mean it Daryl. This isn’t some fucked up punishment for whatever you think happened between us. If it hurts, even a little-”

“Paul!” Daryl interrupted loudly, looking back at him with a red face and furrowed brow. “I _get_ it. Just… just do it already.” God, he sounded like he was begging.

This was not going to last long at all, for either of them.

—

Someone was definitely going to hear. Any attempt to stay quiet went out the window as soon as Paul took his second thrust.

After a couple more minutes Paul tried to get a hand over Daryl’s mouth, and got bitten for his trouble—probably a little harder than Daryl had intended. Shrugging mentally, he returned his hands to Daryl’s hips, looking down. Watching himself.

He was already close. Christ.

A few minutes more and he felt Daryl squeeze around him, nearly making his eyes cross.

“Paul,” Daryl said urgently. “Paul, I’m- I’m-”

“Yeah,” Paul said, and got his hand under Daryl’s body. The noise Daryl made wasn’t exactly a shriek, but it was in that neighborhood.

Leaning low, he could kiss and bite at Daryl’s shoulder as he came. So he did, almost whimpering at the way Daryl tightened and shuddered around him. He wished they’d done it face-to-face so he could see, but knew this position was better—easier, at least—for Daryl’s first time.

When Daryl's body finally relaxed Paul pulled out gently and took himself in hand, staring at Daryl’s lightly trembling form. The man’s hands were still clenched tight in the sheets, his legs open at an awkward angle. There was a streak of lube on the inside of his thigh and more than one visible bite mark on his back and shoulders.

Fuck. Paul closed his eyes and came, opening them again to see his come streaking over those marks.

—

“Rick was right, you know,” Paul said about ten minutes later. He’d cleaned them up with a wet cloth as Daryl laid there boneless, then taken the liberty of cuddling up close.

“Good,” Daryl said, and pulled him in for a firm kiss.

—

The thin walls were a blessing and a curse, Paul mused when Daryl went out for a smoke.

He wasn’t eavesdropping, really. After all, it wasn’t his fault Rick and Daryl decided to have a chat so close to the trailer.

“So did you two decide the harvest just isn’t your problem anymore? Fuck everyone else, you’re on vacation?” Rick said. Paul didn’t know him well enough to tell if he was teasing or actually irritated.

“Took a break,” Daryl replied flatly.

“Believe me, I noticed. I came over here twenty minutes ago to see where you went.”

Paul cringed, but to his surprise Daryl only sounded mildly embarrassed when he said, “You think I never had to get the earplugs when you and Michonne got going? And I was _next door_.”

Rick laughed easily. “Just… tell me you two actually _talked_ , at least a little.”

“Yeah. Said I’d tell you not to murder him.”

“Nah, I won’t. Not when he _clearly_ makes you so happy.”

Rick’s voice was loaded with innuendo, but Daryl simply replied, “Good. Cause he does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. That happened.
> 
> Guess I lied about that "no more smut" thing.


End file.
